Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (16 page)

“No—Vryn—no!”

Several large
explosions out the front of the Centre had the Varkja leap up in an
agitated expectation of attack. A distracted Vryn turned for a
second, but a second was all an Elf ever needed.

From her
vantage point, a contemplative Elf licked cream off her fingers
while watching the Martyc entourage exit the Centre to discover
that all the tyres of their car had mysteriously burst at once. If
she had bothered with reflection she might have noticed that she
had referred to the Martyc by his first name and for an Elf—this
would not do at all.

The Fairy

Contrary to
human mythology the Fairy didn’t swoop down from the forest to
steal children away as even the thought of dealing with a human
would send one into hiding for a century. In the magical world the
clever Elf entranced with their naughty charm, the Gnome barrelled
through bullying with their strength, and the mercurial Pixie
rushed about with inebriated camaraderie. It was the Fairy, despite
their slight structure, fractured natures, and deceptive feminine
appearance, who were the creatures that implemented force of this
realm. The Goblin might be nefarious in their dealings, malicious
in their natures, but the Fairy wielded the sword in the magical
realm. These beautiful beings were the ones sent out for
retribution, ambush, and torture, to pluck out the heart, or scar
the eyes of an enemy. The Fairy whose bloodlust belied their
elegant beauty, unreliable, uncontrollable, paranoid, their only
redeeming quality was their loyalty and the fierce protection of
their realm. One could always rely upon the Fairy to take or give
up a life in defence of their world.

With their
feminine features they were not the static porcelain beauty of the
Pixie, or the warm grace of the Elf as theirs was the elegance of
being. Gnomes lived in burrows or anywhere under the ground, Pixies
lived high in the tops of trees, no one knew where Goblins lived or
cared enough to find out. Elves lived wherever there were flowers
and the Fairy lived anywhere there was calm water. Often seen at
dusk, like graceful dragonflies they skimmed the surface of a lake
or pond, their misdirection impeccable—as they seemed to swoop down
from nowhere.

The Fairy on
the ground was a creature held prisoner by their own body for they
didn’t flutter like the disjointed Pixie nor had the luxury of an
Elf dissolve. Instead, the Fairy rode currents in the air soaring
above their contemporaries. Their pathological need for the
soothing presence of water was reflected by the pools, natural or
structured, all over their homes. The Elders soon realised that if
they wanted to converse with their own military then they had to
provide a suitable arena. The Fairy wouldn’t die in a harsh dry
climate and instead became brittle to survive while they
degenerated into the vicious killer concealed behind the mask of
exquisite elegance.

The Fairy
rarely left their own realm voluntarily because they didn’t possess
the interior structure to cope with change or uncertainty. Unlike
the Pixie who dampened their terror with gin, the Elf who used
mischief as deflection from her fragile interior, or the Goblin
whose nefarious nature coped well with the hazards of demon
association. The erratic nature of demon worlds left a Fairy
confused, victim to their suspicions and the results were often not
good diplomacy. However, it was the Fairy the Elders turned to when
it was imperative that an off world message arrived. Pixies, the
general messengers, would get so drunk at the terror of leaving
home they’d often wind up at the wrong address, so they were sent
only to safe destinations. Elves wandered off mid task if anything
else looked more fun than duty, Gnomes refused point-blank to go,
and Goblins were never to be trusted—ever.

The magical
world with all its inconsistent absurdity had as its greatest
paradox the Fairy as guardian, assassin, strong arm, and harbinger
of dire warnings. Too easy to confuse and too prone to drink the
Pixie was not a useful creature when a threat needed to be issued,
especially one that could be followed up with the demise of the
recipient.

Though not as
physically strong as the Gnome, without the multiple magical
defences of Pixie or Elf, and without the interior for friendship
the Fairy was the most dangerous being of their world. The sudden
presence of a Fairy never incurred a warm welcome as they usually
arrived to relieve someone of their possessions, life, issue a
warning, or escort them home. Once the magical assassin dealt with
the miscreant they vanished before anyone could object to the
sudden expiration of life that might have transpired. If the
transgressor had incurred offense, debt, or a diplomatic faux pas
needed to be rectified the Elders didn’t expect the Fairy with
their neurotic fears to sort through inter-dominion issues. The
Fairy, as faithful and loyal as their kind were, could only create
more difficulty with their paranoid suspicion of anything demon or
otherworldly. Wisely, this task was one they gave to an Elf who
had, with their charm and calming effect upon various demons, a far
better chance at sorting through diplomatic debris. If she could be
prevailed upon staying around long enough to sort through the mess
and not make it worse. For when it came to demons there was really
no magical creature that could be trusted not to torment them with
the one thing demons couldn’t reconcile—their very existence.

The Elders
tended not to protect or sanction their beings off world and barely
cared for them on it. The magical realm was not a cohesive enough
society to safeguard their own and it usually took an alarming
occurrence before this splintered world recognised that action was
required. The Fairy sent as messenger was an indication of the
serious intent of the communication and any being receiving a visit
would accept that their life wasn’t about to take a turn for the
better.

**********

Be not
forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained
angels unawares.

Hebrews
13:2

Zyre sat hidden
by the undergrowth in the botanic garden without any plans. It was
her natural reaction to seek out the healing of flora when startled
and her encounter with the Martyc had done just that. She should
have been contemplating her limited options, but she had discovered
a tiny mouse eating a scrap of food tossed away by a careless
picnicker. As with all creatures near an Elf, the mouse appeared
oblivious to its observer and went about dinner without any
conception of threat. Zyre dragged herself away from the most fun
she had all day since her travels lately had been more of avoiding
demons than enjoying life. Her meeting with Dhaigre had been just
the right sort of mischief until he had taken control of the
situation and decided to surround her with his legs. The electric
thrill of his touch burned in her memory and she scowled at the
thought of the Martyc. The past few days of hiding in plain sight
had wearied her, demons, Fairies, Vampires, everyone and his Poqir
seemed to be looking for an Elf. Short of returning through the
Reveal she didn’t see any immediate ending of the chase for her
presence.

“Blinkity
buckets of Martyc bother.”

She muttered as
life forced her to ponder her options and she lay upon the cool
ground, since the musty damp of the plants was a pleasant encounter
for one in harmony with all life. The gardens on the outskirts of
the city had been a great find as the plants were allowed to reach
their potential unmolested by the concrete monster struggling at
the gates.

The invitation
from the Vampire Florian Ribeni returned to her mind, yet she was
not impressed by the offer from the Ghuvk. Nor had she any real
interest in accepting it, but she knew as the Vampires probably did
that it was only a matter of time before her choices became limited
to accepting protection or leaving. She watched the sunlight filter
through the leaves and there was no decision to be made because her
path had been clear the moment she discovered there was to be a
Vampire Ball. This private affair was one that very few creatures
from the Reveal had been allowed to experience. To cause mischief
was the source of all Elf truth; to cause mischief where it was
unexpected was the source of Elf joy, and to cause mischief where
no Elf had ever caused it was the ultimate satisfaction. Once in
possession of the knowledge that there was a Ball she had already
accepted the offer of sanctuary in her mind and to her an actual
presence was secondary.

The day faded
into dusk and while she feasted upon the last of the open
blooms—she knew that once night deepened the chance of her
discovery would be greater. The sky broke into the last streaks of
colour and the deceptive moments of twilight allowed those who hid
from the stark truth of daylight the grace of muted appearance.
Twilight, the time when Elves could view the reality surrounding
them with clarity, was the interval when humans saw their world
softened by the magic of fading moments. She found her way back to
the walkway the debris from the undergrowth falling from her dress
and by the time she reached the path her appearance was once again
immaculate. Dusk settled onto the treetops and as the corners
darkened what was once hidden from the sun came to life. She didn’t
require directions to the House of Veraign since she had already
followed some Vampires home from their club. Finding the correct
club was as simple as asking a Verkja. They gave up information
easier than cheating a Gnome at cards and the hulking bouncers with
their tattoos and dim wits were used only to keep humans from
getting too close.

She returned to
the House and hid in the garden watching while she accounted for
how many Vampires she would have to contend with during her visit.
Elves might be flighty, but they weren’t foolish—they survived
despite their own natures and she investigated her new domicile
carefully before taking up residence.

She arrived to
hear the scurrying sounds of the Zhismi and she knew the Vampire
night had begun. Everyone knew of the Zhismi, human gypsies, who
had served Vampires for so many centuries they no longer had
attachment to their human roots. Zyre could have announced herself
in many ways, knocked at the door, dissolved into the interior,
called out to one of the Zhismi, but while an Elf might be socially
aware that didn’t make them socially obliged. Instead, she wandered
out to the back garden and waited to be noticed. This in reality
was a lie because an Elf was rarely observed unless she was deeply
occupied or wished for it to happen. She sat in the garden enjoying
her last few moments of freedom until a startled Zhismi boy stopped
dead at the sight of a magical beauty sitting amongst the flowers.
She released her Elf smile and the child smiled back at the
beautiful creature he had discovered.

“Hey hey
there,” she said in perfect human and they shared a grin.

Taking his hand
she let the boy lead her back towards the house and a Zhismi man
looking for the errant child stopped as he eyed the pair with
startled concern.

Emerald eyes
held him captive until she said, “Tell them I be here.”

He whisked the
boy into the bowels of the household, leaving the Elf to wait for
her Vampire hosts to appear. It wasn’t long before she could feel
the surge of excited disbelief behind the walls as Vampire eyes
glowed from every window and she remained calm under the scrutiny
of her new associates. She was not possessed of any fear as she
could vanish, destroy, or torment upon caprice and Vampires, even a
household, were no match for an Elf. Instead, she attempted to
respect the situation and stood waiting for the Vampire Florian
Ribeni to appear.

He was prompt
in arrival, but the wary shadow behind his eyes belied his false
welcoming smile. Zyre knew whatever haven this House offered it
would rely upon many constraints—none of which she intended to
respect. Ever the gracious host Florian bowed slightly as he
greeted her. “We are honoured by your acceptance of our
invitation.”

Before he could
lapse into the smug vanity of acquiring a magical guest Zyre
couldn’t resist a little poke. “Your Herald tis not greet me?”

Vryn Dhaigre
could have told him that the gleam dancing in her eyes meant that
she already knew that Estienne had gone to meet those of Veraign
who were arriving for the Ball. Florian’s features fell into a
comedy of dismay and she read his fear of offending her with
satisfaction.

“Estienne
would—want—it is the arrival of those from Reveal, the
Aunsin....”

His voice
trailed off as he realised it might not be the smartest thing to
reveal Vampire business to a strange Elf. She didn’t really care
about explanations because her purpose was consternation and once
caused she was content. She swept his apologies aside and wandered
over to the French doors that led back into the large sitting room.
Florian flung them open, standing aside while he waited for the
entrance of the precious magical guest.

If Zyre noticed
things such as furniture she would have noted that the pieces
currently occupied by those lounging were antique—not antique in
the sense of the display of a treasured piece but as in furniture
that had been used for centuries. The large room led to a series of
similar ones devoted to themes, library, music room, theatre for
watching movies, until the corridor narrowed into the Zhismi area
of kitchen and utilities. Furnishings were secondary to an Elf
compelled by smells, colours, textures and emotions. The blend of
life in the back rooms caught her fancy as the static perfection of
the Vampire existence did nothing to entice her interest.

Unable to
understand her fascination with the kitchen Florian fussed, “Your
room is up here.”